A Bizarre Lack of Euphoria

Tonight, I spontaneously decided to spend an exorbitant amount of money on a concert ticket and tag along with my friends to se the Icelandic band Sigur Ros. They have a unique, phenomenal sound, and as my friend Jared likes to say, "They are an acquired taste."
Well, I have acquired a taste for Sigur Ros and their ethereal techno-symphonic melodies in the past few months, so I decided that the concert would be an evening well spent. . .hopefully.

As I was sitting by myself at the concert (my friends had dispersed throughout the auditorium to places unbeknownst to me), I found myself being distracted, and my mind wandering, for most of the concert. The music was captivating, to be sure, but my mind rarely stayed focused on the music for more than a few minutes at a time. I felt as if I should be mesmerized by the music and the performance, and to some degree, I was. . . . .but I felt somewhat ashamed at my blatant lack of awe.

But perhaps, let me reflect for a moment, may I ask what we consider to be awe or euphoria? Perhaps if my friends and I had smoked some weed prior to the concert (which we didn't), we would have had a false euphoria. But as I witnessed this performance, (which had been hyped to me to be a "spiritual experience," of one way or another) there was less emotion being evoked within me than when I simply listen to Sigur Ros' album while driving in my car. I couldn't bring myself to induce some kind of fake emotion, so that I could walk out of the concert hall with a mesmerized look on my face.

I think that I have a low tolerance for "climax" moments in life (to name a few):

When I was on top of the Mayan ruins in Guatemala, I honestly felt sick and wanted to leave. (And they are one of the seven wonders of the world, if I remember correctly.)

The days when I graduated from both high school and college, I felt so ironically blase, as if it were any other day, and the pomp and circumstance did nothing to excite me about this "next big step" in life.

I assume that one day, when I stand in front of friends and family and make vows to a certain someone, it won't be as exciting of a day as I've always thought. . . .it might seem like just another day (except with a partner for life afterward).

I don't know if any of this makes sense. But I don't care. I think about this quite a lot. I feel somewhat bad at times, because I am not filled with nostalgia or emotion concerning these supposedly "climactic" events in life, but the things which drive me to tears or arrest me with awe are much smaller events, but important nonetheless:

The times that my close girlfriends and I have held each other and cried, sometimes for no reason at all.

When I took a walk with a handicapped woman I used to care for, and she taught me to walk slowly, savor each step, and not to hurry through life.

When my friends and I danced in the Sculpture Garden in a snowstorm in January, and then smoked and drank wine on the Loring Park bridge while we quoted poetry to each other.

When my dad tears up at the end of sappy movies, and he blinks the tears away every time, but my respect for him always grows when I see those few tears.


I suppose that I don't really care that tonight wasn't a life-altering experience to see Sigur Ros in concert. It's hard when one's expectations are high, because then they are never met. I prefer to look for poignance and beauty in everyday situations, because truly, it's much easier to find.